Happy Pukey Drivel
by Victorian Beauty
Summary: Hearts and Flowers, Hearts and Flowers... 'tis a silly story.


Happy Pukey Harry Potter Drivel

Myrtle sat at the edge of her toilet in the girls bathroom, entertaining herself with thoughts of death. She wondered vaguely with sulky joy if that girl who went to the hospital wing, the one that looked like Olive Hornbey, was going to die. She was lost in that thought, shuddering with grim satisfaction at the idea, when the translucent grey head and shoulders of a handsome young boy drifted silently through the door of her stall.

"Hello," He said, in an amiable tone.

"This is a girls bathroom!" She chided him.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. It's just that I knew you were in here and thought you could use some company."

"I don't need _your_ company!" She snapped, crossing her arms and turning away from him. "You probably just came to make fun of me anyway. Boys always tease and make fun."

"Well, I could use some company, even if you don't. May I stay if I promise not to make fun of you?" There was a gentle quality to his tone that made Moaning Myrtle relent. Without uncrossing her arms, and without speaking a word, she drifted lightly to one side, making room on the back fixture of the toilet for him to sit down next to her.

"Thank you." he said, a smile in his voice. He sailed lightly towards her, sitting next to her on the back of the tank. "It isn't a bad toilet you have here. Thank you for sharing it."

Myrtle wasn't used to people being nice to her. She eyed the boy ghost next to her with some suspicion. The first thing she noticed was how good looking he was. The second thing she noticed was that he looked familiar. Few student's ghosts haunted Hogwarts, and she couldn't place him among the ghosts she'd met. She knew she must have seen him while he was alive. Suddenly, she knew who he was.

"You're that boy that was in the tournament. Diggums, something or other…" She announced.

Cedric's ghost nodded. "Diggory, that's right." He added a little hesitantly. This surprised Myrtle, because he didn't seem the type to be shy.

"Oh!" She exclaimed with elation. "But the whole school is talking about you! They don't know how you died!" She lowered her voice and added with morbid relish "Some even say you were…" she drew out the word, savoring it "…murdered."

To Myrtle's disappointment, Cedric merely nodded. The tale of his death did not seem to excite him as much as it did her. "I suppose they must be right then." He said distantly.

"You mean… you _were_ murdered?" she nearly squealed.

A delicate, silvery blush spread over Cedric's cheeks. "I suppose you could say that. I don't know what else you'd call it." He shifted uncomfortably.

Myrtle noticed his unease. Taking his cue that his death was not something that delighted him, she approached the subject differently. She decided she'd get to hear the story in a different way. "Well if you want to talk about it, I can listen." She tried to mimic his gentle tone, but wasn't sure she'd got it right.

"I'm not positive I understand everything that happened myself." He sighed. "After Harry Potter and I were taken by portkey to the cemetery, it all got muddled and confusing."

"Has Harry Potter been telling the truth? Is… you-know-who back?" She gasped. "Was he… was he the one who killed you?" She found the conversation positively thrilling. Thinking of all the new company she'd have if Voldemort came back made her hands dance around her lap as she sat.

Cedric looked down through his silver lap and nodded slowly, while Myrtle let out an awed sigh. "I saw the flash of green light. I knew it was supposed to have killed me, but I was still standing there watching it all happen. I felt a pull, like I needed to go somewhere, but I wasn't going to leave Harry to face what was happening all on his own. It was stupid of me. It didn't take long before I realized there was nothing I could do to help."

"Why haven't you told anybody what happened? Everyone thinks Harry Potter is telling tales. You wouldn't have any reason to lie about how you died."

"People don't listen to ghosts." Cedric said quietly. Myrtle suddenly felt a measureless surge of affection for him blossom in her. "It would if it would help anything, but it wouldn't. At best I'd be banished from the castle for causing a disruption. I'd be like Peeves. I suppose I'm being remembered, but no one even wants to think that I might be here." He looked even sadder for a moment. "Besides, I don't even want them to know I am. It would upset too many people I care about."

"I won't tell anyone you're here." Myrtle announced with delight. "I'll keep you're secret, and you can come and visit me. You'll be my secret!"

Myrtle's jubilation caused a light ghost of a smile to spread across the pale, smoke-like form of Cedric's face. "Very well, and I'll come and visit you. It's very nice of you to keep my secret, Myrtle, and to let me come and visit, and share your toilet."

"Now you are making fun of me." Myrtle huffed.

"I'm not. It really is very kind of you. I think you're very nice."

This made Myrtle pause. She wasn't used to being told she was nice. "You mean it?"

Cedric smiled again. He leaned in and placed a silver whisper of a kiss on her foggy cheek. And, for one short moment, Myrtle didn't feel like moaning.


End file.
